


i'll be here

by justaboat



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8777698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justaboat/pseuds/justaboat
Summary: harry has a thing for a fancy lawyer who comes into his bakery every morning. au. lots and lots of fluff.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is for kate! because she asked me too and i love her.
> 
> HERE I AM, WRITING FOR THE ONE DIRECTION FANDOM YET AGAIN, SOMETHING SHORT AND HOPEFULLY SWEET,
> 
> to be perfectly honest i forgot my AO3 password for this account so i haven't been able to log on for a large number of months. how embarrassing. but here i am! and here is some harry and liam!
> 
> i added shawn mendes because i'm in love with him and that's fine, thanks, i know myself and my entire life are a mess. i hope you enjoy this!
> 
> title taken from alessia cara's here.

“Don’t look now, but that guy you’ve been eyeing up for the past two weeks just walked in.”

When Harry looks up, Niall scoffs loudly. “You’re terrible at following directions,” he mumbles where he’s piling a bunch of scones onto a display plate.

“He looks great in a suit, doesn’t he?” Harry asks, leaning his elbows into a pile of flour on top of the counter.

Niall rolls his eyes, flicking some of the powder onto Harry’s already dirty shirt. “You wanna get his order ready? Hazelnut coffee with a scone?”

“I mean, unless you’ve also got interest,” Harry says, grinning over at him.

“Oh my God. Go, now. Before I change my mind,” Niall says, shooing him off.

It’s nearing the mid-morning lull, one of Harry’s favourite times of the day. Everything on the busy street slows down for at least a little while, and it’s usually when he and Niall can get away with turning up their music a bit louder while they’re putting in the lunch sandwiches. But for right now, though, he needs to focus.

When he comes up the counter Harry sees him blush, noticing his order all ready to go and packed up. 

“You remembered?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.

“You just caught me on a good day is all,” Harry says back, handing him his change.

He goes to take his things, to-go bag and cup before turning back around, catching Harry off guard for a moment. “I’m Liam,” he introduces.

“Hi, Liam,” Harry says, pointing to his name tag hanging off his apron. “I’m Harry.”

“Right. I could’ve — read that,” Liam says, the sheepish smile returning to his lips once again. “I just thought you should know. In case you wanted to know, though I’m not sure why you would want to know.”

Harry shrugs, the bell for the door ringing when someone else steps in. Niall greets them, Harry still fixated on Liam. “It’s nice to meet you, Liam,” Harry says.

Liam nods, giving one last wave before pushing back out the door. Niall all but giggles from beside Harry, “Christ, poor guy has it bad.”

Harry elbows his side, “Shut up. He’s already embarrassed enough.”

“He didn’t stand a chance against your charm,” Niall says simply, wiggling his eyebrows when Harry pinches his arm before he goes to get a donut for his customer.

_Not a bad morning, then,_ Harry thinks briefly to himself. 

— 

The next time Harry sees Liam it’s been a rather terrible morning a few days later, that has moved on to becoming a terrible afternoon. He’s tired; been awake since five in the fucking morning because his new opener he hired, Lottie, couldn’t find her key.

He’s on his break, looking over the numbers and trying to figure out the schedule for next week when a shadow comes over his table. “I don’t need more green tea, Niall. I’m fine,” Harry says, tucking a pencil behind his ear, his hair falling in front of his face.

“My name’s not Niall,” a deeper voice comes, now coming to sit across from him. Harry blinks, seeing Liam looking at him over the table, “and I really didn’t think you were a green tea drinker.”

“Really? I’ve been told my entire being reads as a green tea drinker,” Harry says, smiling a little. 

Liam shrugs, taking a drink of what looks like his coffee from his steaming cup. “You look stressed,” he comments, nodding to Harry’s stack of papers.

Harry forces a small laugh. “No, I’m not, I’m just —” he stops when Liam raises an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look, and that’s when Harry knows he’s been found out. “Yeah, I’m a little stressed out right now.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Scheduling, mostly. Hideously boring, I’m afraid,” Harry says, pulling his hair back to tie it up.

“My dad used to own a restaurant when I was younger. He said that was the worst bit,” Liam says.

Harry smirks, “Mr. Liam is a man of mystery, who knew.”

Liam’s cheeks flush again and he shakes his head. “I just remember him staying up late most nights doing it in his office.”

“I understand his pain,” Harry says, and now it’s Liam’s turn to laugh quietly. 

“Just remember, things could be worse,” Liam says, slowly standing from the table. 

“You’re one of those optimist types, aren’t you?” Harry asks, pointing his pencil toward Liam.

Liam shrugs a second time. “Maybe,” he says before pushing back out the front door. 

Niall cackles from behind the counter, putting a dish drying towel over his shoulders. He claps his hands together and says, “let the games begin!”

Harry just flips him off in response.

— 

Harry can’t find the certain kind of cereal Niall likes. Of course, Niall’s back at home playing on his guitar, so Harry was the one was being sent out on an errand.

He sighs loudly, taking a box of the tea he likes and continuing on his way. The store isn’t all that full, thankfully, everyone else having much better things to do on a Friday evening. Not Harry, but everyone else.

“Harry?”

Hearing his name he turns slowly, seeing Liam at the other end of the aisle. Harry blinks, running a hand through his hair and asks, “Liam?”

Liam nods, his own basket tucked under his arm. “You look — different, without your suit,” Harry adds, walking over toward him.

Liam avoids Harry’s gaze, pulling awkwardly at the sweater he’s wearing; it’s white, knitted. It looks cozy in comparison to the getting colder weather outside. 

“You look different without your — apron,” Liam says after a moment passes, and Harry just grins over at him.

“Do I look better with or without it?” Harry asks, turning his head to the side.

In the light he can see Liam’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. “I — should go, probably,” Liam says. Harry decides he likes seeing Liam squirm. 

“I’ll see you around,” Harry says, toasting the cheap bottle of wine he’s also buying toward Liam before putting it into his basket.

He does spend his entire way home thinking about Liam, since the Tesco’s is only a five minute walk from his and Niall’s flat. When he opens the door he’s greeted with the strumming of guitars, loud and echoing when Harry kicks the door shut behind him. “Harry? That you?” Niall’s voice comes from presumably the living room.

“Yeah,” Harry says, taking off his shoes and throwing into a pile of more shoes. “I couldn’t find the cereal you like, though.”

“Bugger off, then,” Niall adds, a laugh following.

“Shawn’s still here? You can’t keep him here forever, Horan,” Harry says, throwing a bag of the crisps Niall likes at him. “I didn’t hear a _you’re welcome, Harry,_ in that either.”

“We can’t write songs for shit,” Niall says. 

Shawn makes a sound of protest, “Niall just isn’t focusing.”

“When does he ever,” Harry says sympathetically, too which Niall flips him off affectionately. 

“I can’t believe you couldn’t find my cereal at Tesco’s. It’s not like it’s three stories high, or anything,” Niall mumbles through a mouthful of crisps.

“I got — distracted,” Harry admits, shrugging his shoulders.

Niall gives him a look; Harry knows that look. “By what,” Niall asks, then adds, “or _who_.”

“Shut up,” Harry says.

Niall cackles, putting his guitar on the ground next to him. “Was it Liam?” he asks, raising his eyebrows knowingly. 

“Go away,” Harry says, shoving his shoulder lightly.

“The lawyer guy?” Shawn asks, reaching into Niall’s crisps bag.

Harry glares over at Niall, “who else have you told?”

“Just Shawn. Relax,” Niall says. 

“How do you know he’s a lawyer?” Harry asks.

“He told me once. For someone who’s pining after him you don’t have a lot of information on him, Harry. Keep up,” Niall says, nudging Harry’s shin with his foot.

“I’m not pining,” Harry says, but he knows Niall’s right. He hates that Niall’s right.

“He’s a divorce lawyer, I think,” Niall continues, “he said something about that.”

“What did you two talk about?” Shawn asks, apparently still interested in Harry’s lack of a love life. Or any life, actually.

“I told him he looked different without his suit,” Harry says. 

Niall groans, “great start, Harry. He’s going to think you want to knit him sweaters, not suck him —”

“Okay, Jesus,” Harry cuts Niall off before he can finish that vulgar sentence. “I was nice, so what.”

“Invite him to our gig this weekend,” Shawn offers. “We haven’t put together our setlist, so if it sucks at least you have someone to talk to.”

Niall kicks Shawn’s leg gently, but doesn’t deny it.

Harry blinks at him, “you really should stop hanging out with Niall, you know. You’re too nice and — a good human being.”

Niall pinches Harry’s arm. Hard. Harry pushes him away, hearing Shawn laugh. “He just uses me for my song writing skills,” Shawn says, shrugging.

Niall nods in agreement, “invite him, why not.”

“He could be, you know. Busy doing lawyer stuff,” Harry says.

“Lawyer stuff,” Niall repeats, amused.

“Or he’s married,” Harry adds.

“Think he would wear a ring if that were the case,” Niall says, wiping some crisps crumbs off his shirt.

“You’re a pig,” Harry says. Niall just shrugs, in assumed agreement. 

“I love when you talk dirty to me,” Niall says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’m going to bed. Some of us have to open the bakery tomorrow,” Harry says, “nice seeing you, Shawn.”

“You too!” Shawn calls after him, Niall blowing Harry a kiss when he goes down the hall into his bedroom.

— 

Generally, Harry isn’t someone who needs to talk himself into things. He usually has enough charm in himself to get by with asking anyone to do anything for him; it’s a gift he’s cultivated over the years.

But with Liam, it’s different.

Harry finds himself dreading every time the bell goes off on the front door, and when Liam finally does walk in Niall not so subtly coughs loudly from where he’s standing putting cookies into a package. 

“Subtle,” Harry says. Niall just smirks, shrugging innocently.

“I’m going to tell Shawn you wear his sweaters to bed at night,” Harry says.

“Oh my God. Go ask him instead of torturing me,” Niall says as Liam makes his way toward the till.

Harry clears his throat, “hi,” he says finally.

Liam smiles up at him. God, Harry’s probably going to die. “Hey,” Liam says, “I just — came in for my usual.”

“Right, of course,” Harry says, getting his coffee and scone together.

Liam pays him, still smiling and Harry’s sure he might be blushing himself now in the lights of the bakery. “I, um — Liam?”

Liam looks up at him again, “yeah?”

“I was just, thinking. Or you know, wondering,” Harry starts. He sounds like an idiot, is what he sounds like. A bloody, raging, idiot. “My co worker, Niall, over there —” he points to where Niall is swearing, apparently burned his hand on something, “is doing a show, this weekend? And I thought you’d, you know. Maybe would want to go.”

He sees Liam hesitate, briefly, and for a moment Harry’s absolutely petrified he’s gone and fucked this entire thing up. “What night?”

“Friday?” Harry supplies.

Liam nods, “I can do that. Do you want my number? To text me the details?”

“Right. Texting you the details,” Harry says, “good idea, Liam.”

“You could write it on a napkin?” Liam further helps him along.

Harry all but slaps himself in the face. “Again, good idea,” he says, reaching for one and letting Liam write his number on it.

“I’ll talk to you later, Harry,” Liam says, tucking it into his pocket, giving him a final look before he goes, the bell dinging again when he opens the door.

“Shut up,” Harry says before Niall has a chance to even breathe.

“I can’t believe you fucked it up like that,” Niall says, barely able to talk through his laughter.

“You’re fired,” Harry says, smacking the back of Niall’s head before he goes into the backroom, Niall’s laughter following him the entire way there.

—

Harry, 9:37 pm:

_Hiiiiiii Liam, it’s Harry. From the bakery. Just texting to give you the details for the show this weekend._

He all but throws his phone when Liam doesn’t reply after ten minutes. He scrubs his hand along his face muttering, “oh God, oh fucking God, I fucked it up,” over and over until it buzzes from beside him on the couch cushion.

Liam, 9:56 pm:

_Hello harry! Are you going to give me the details? ;)_

Harry groans out loud to only himself. “Right,” he tells himself.

Harry, 10:01 pm:

_Good call, Liam. It’s at 8:30 pm, at a pub called Dawsons. As in creek. Dawson’s Creek._

Liam, 10:04 pm:

_I know that place ! i’ll see you then, Harry. Thanks for inviting me :)_

“Well,” Harry says, dropping his phone uselessly into his lap. “That, as they say, is that.”

— 

“You’re an idiot!” Niall calls from down the hallway, “just wear that new shirt you got the other week when we went shopping.”

“Fine,” Harry says, picking a shirt out of the growing pile in the corner of his room.

“That’s the stubborn five year old I know,” Niall sing-songs. Harry throws a shoe at him where he’s leaning in Harry’s doorway.

There’s a knock at the door. “That’s Shawn. We gotta go,” Niall says, hitting Harry’s door before he goes.

“ _Fine_ ,” Harry says for the second time, more petulant this time when he goes to get his phone and wallet from his bedside table.

They pile into Shawn’s tiny car, Harry helping Niall with his gear as they go to the venue. Harry comes to help, because he’s too good of a friend than Niall deserves, helping them with their microphones and getting everything set up.

They go through the setlist and soundcheck and they sound great, Harry giving them a thumbs up as Niall grins from the stool he’s sitting on on the tiny stage at the front of the pub.

“At least they don’t suck,” the bartender Harry knows, Nick, says where he puts a drying cloth over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be seen in public with him if he sucked,” Harry adds. Nick snorts, handing him an already opened beer.

“I hear you’ve got a date for tonight,” Nick says, both elbows braced against the bartop and watching Harry closely with a knowing smirk.

“Oh my God. I’m going to kill Niall,” Harry says, leaning his forehead against the bartop. Nick laughs, the sound loud when he says, “calm down. He’s just excited for you that’s all.”

“Of course he is,” Harry says flatly. 

“Just don’t fuck it up, yeah?” Nick says, tugging on a piece of Harry’s hair. 

“Brilliant advice, Nick. Really,” Harry tells him, rolling his eyes. “You’ve picked the right profession.”

“Fuck off,” Nick says cheerily, finishing drying a glass before putting it back and walking down to the other end of the bar to tend to someone.

Liam’s a few minutes later, coming in looking disheveled and immediately glancing around for Harry. Niall, by the looks of things, is doing his nervous ranting to Shawn who’s trying to tune his guitar — nodding along silently to whatever it is he’s going on about. Bless him, honestly; Harry isn’t sure how Niall’s managed to keep him so long.

“Liam!” Harry calls, waving a hand to motion him over. But he stops, seeing someone beside him, “and someone I don’t know.”

“This is my flatmate, Louis. He’s, well. He heard of your friend’s band and he wanted to come check them out,” Liam says, “if that’s alright?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harry says, forcing a smile. “I’m Harry.”

“Believe me mate, I know,” Louis says knowingly. Liam, lacking any and all subtly, elbows him in the side. 

It takes all in Harry not to snort in response. “Do you two want anything?”

“Whiskey,” Louis says immediately. “Oi, do you do anything here?”

Nick glances up, but as soon as he sees Louis, rolls his eyes. “Why did you bring him here?” he asks Harry.

“I didn’t bring him,” Harry says, holding up his hands, “Liam did.”

“Ah, the lawyer. What’ll you have?” Nick asks.

“He — knows about me?” Liam asks, looking confused.

“Niall. Has the biggest mouth of anyone I know,” Harry says, hoping that’s answer enough. God, he’s going to kill Niall later.

Nick nods in agreement. Liam orders himself a beer, Nick busying himself with that, handing Louis his ordered whiskey wordlessly. Liam sits beside Harry, Louis beside him on the remaining bar stools that are left.

“I heard him a few weeks ago, your friend,” Louis says, leaning over to talk to Harry. “He was good. Brilliant, actually.”

“Don’t tell him that. It’ll go straight to his head,” Harry says, tipping back more of his drink. Louis laughs, the sound high-pitched but genuine.

Liam’s looking down at his drink, keeping his voice low when he says to Harry, “I’m sorry. I was just — he said he wanted to come and I was just, nervous.”

Harry feels his face soften immediately at the sincerity in Liam’s voice. “I’m not that scary y’know, Liam. I don’t bite unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Liam makes a face, “when would something like that be absolutely necessary?”

“Dunno. But if it ever is, I’ll be ready,” Harry says.

“God. You’re hard to keep up with,” Liam says, but it comes out fondly where he’s trying to bite back a smile; though he’s doing a horrible job of it, Harry decides.

“That’s part of my charm,” Harry says.

Liam doesn’t argue him on it. He does, however, lean against Harry gently, their arms gently against one another. Harry doesn’t move, enjoys Liam’s warmth there; solid and steady, he thinks to himself.

Niall and Shawn go on a few minutes later to a loud applause and cheers, mostly from Harry in the back. Niall walks up to his microphone, shaking his head, “to the idiot in the back, shut up,” he starts, getting a ripple of laughter from the crowd.

“To the rest of you I’m Niall, and this is my friend Shawn, and we’re here to sing you a few songs courtesy of Nick opening his tiny, shitty little pub to us,” he continues. More laughter, “we don’t have a name for ourselves yet, so you can just call us the two guys, I guess,” Niall says, strumming loosely on his guitar.

They start with a few songs, their entire set about forty-five minutes in total. The crowd loves them, loud and energetic, thriving off of the energy Niall gives them so easily from the stage.

“I just wrote this song the other weekend, so I’d like to finish off our set with it,” Niall says, “it’s called This Town.”

Harry’s heard him practicing it for weeks, so it’s pretty cool to hear Niall actually playing it in front of an audience now. 

“He really is good,” Liam says gently.

Harry nods, “I hate admitting it, but he is,” he says in agreement.

Liam smiles, his fingers brushing the back of Harry’s hand for a brief moment. Soft and warm, and oddly familiar in a way Harry can’t place.

They stay there for a little while, even when Niall’s put down his guitar and all but runs over to where Harry is, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m glad you didn’t fuck it up,” Harry says, Niall shoving him in response.

“Thanks,” Niall says flatly.

Harry shakes Shawn’s hand, congratulating him before Louis introduces himself almost right away, Harry taking a few steps back.

“I should let Niall get his praise from Louis,” Harry says, and Liam shrugs.

“Just get it out of the way now,” Liam says. 

“So, Liam. Tell me about yourself,” Harry says, turning to face him.

Liam pauses, blinking before he says, “me?”

“Yes, you. Who else?” Harry asks, watching the way Liam gives a sheepish smile.

“Well, I don’t know —” Liam pauses, “I’m a lawyer?”

“I heard. Not even from you,” Harry says.

“I’m a divorce lawyer. I have a dog,” Liam says, “I’m really not that interesting, Harry.”

“I beg to differ,” Harry says.

“You’re the one who owns their own bakery,” Liam points out, leaning back.

He’s taken off his coat, Harry notices now. He looks good in a t shirt, Harry thinks, allowing himself to be briefly distracted. “It was my father’s, that’s all,” Harry says, “I just took it over.”

“It’s still running, so that’s something,” Liam says.

“Possibly,” Harry says, finishing off his second drink.

 

Liam has a dog, he has two sister’s and his parents live in Wolverhampton, Harry soon learns a little while later. He also learn that Liam’s cheeks flush when he drinks, even if it’s only been two of them, when Harry offers to walk Liam home. Apparently his flat is only a ten minute walk away.

There’s a bit of snow dusting the ground when they start walking, a few others on the other side of the street, talking loudly with one another.

“I’m glad you came tonight, Liam,” Harry tells him sincerely. 

“I am too,” Liam says, shivering under his coat. 

When they get to his flat Harry isn’t sure what to do: does he hug him? Or is that too forward? He’s a fucking mess.

The light outside the front door is on, as they both stand there for a few moments. Harry’s about to say something else when Liam leans forward, kissing him abruptly. 

He tastes like beer, his lips soft and pressed up against Harry’s — but it’s nice. But before Harry gets a moment to kiss him back Liam’s pulling away, his eyes wide in what Harry reads as disbelief.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry —” Liam starts, but Harry cuts him off.

“Liam, it’s fine. It’s — more than fine, actually,” Harry says, taking a small step toward him, closing the gap between them.

“I should — I have to go. I’m sorry, Harry,” Liam says, all but rushing to get his front door unlocked.

“Did I do something?” Harry asks, feeling like he really hasn’t a clue what’s happening anymore where he’s standing.

“No, no you — tonight was great, really. But I should be going,” Liam says, stepping inside, “goodnight, Harry.”

And when he closes the door, that’s that.

—

“Did you use tongue?”

“Oh my _God_ , Niall,” Harry groans.

“I’m just asking! Maybe you too forward,” Niall says.

“No, I didn’t,” Harry answers. “Does that help?”

“Not really,” Niall says truthfully. “I have no idea what the fuck you did, then.”

“Helpful,” Harry deadpans.

“I’m not sure what else to tell you,” Niall says, “don’t worry about it, mate. He’ll be back for his scone on Monday, and I’m sure he’ll have an explanation then.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to bed.”

Niall pouts, leaning over to kiss the top of his head quickly. “Night, Haz.”

“Night,” Harry calls back with a small wave before climbing into his bed.

— 

Liam does come in Monday morning, and Harry really isn’t sure what to expect when the bell goes off on the door.

“Hi,” Liam starts, walking up to the counter.

“Hi,” Harry says back.

“I — can I talk to you? For a minute?” Liam asks.

Harry licks his lower lip, considering. “I have a lot to do —”

“I’ll cover you. Go,” Niall says, somehow appearing at Harry’s side where he wasn’t five seconds previous to this conversation.

He gives Harry a look, which says enough when Harry wipes his hands on his apron. “Alright,” he tells Liam, following him outside.

It’s cold as fuck, Harry regretting not grabbing his jacket when Liam looks at him. “I was engaged.”

Harry pauses, trying to process what Liam’s just said. “What, this weekend?”

“No, no, God no,” Liam says, “almost a year ago? I was engaged to this girl, Sophia, and she just —”

Harry waits, giving Liam a few moments. “She dumped me, a week before the wedding. And I haven’t — I haven’t gone out with anyone since then. But then I met you, and you were so —”

“Annoying? Persistent?” 

“Wonderful. You’re wonderful, Harry,” Liam says, his voice low and sincere, like it had been at the bar.

“You kissed me, I hope you remember,” Harry says.

“I know. I wanted too I just, freaked out,” Liam says.

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, nodding, “I’ll say.”

“Can I get a do-over?” Liam asks

“A what?” Harry watches the way Liam’s face turns down into a frown, as if he’s trying to find the right words.

“Another shot, another date. If you’ll — you know. Let me have it,” Liam clarifies. He reaches out, slowly, taking Harry’s hands in his own.

“It’s freezing outside. How are your hands so warm?” Harry asks, mostly in disbelief.

Liam smiles a little, “is that a yes?”

Harry takes in a deep breath, feeling the way Liam thumbs over the back of his hands slowly, carefully, in gentle movements. 

“Yes,” Harry says finally, “it’s a yes.”

Liam’s face breaks out into a large grin. “Brilliant,” he says, “I’ll text you, alright?”

“Alright,” Harry says, Liam letting go of his hands, but the smile never leaving his lips.

He watches Liam go, waiting until he’s turned the corner before he goes back inside. Niall whistles, loudly, causing a few of the people in the cafe to jump, but Niall just cackles loudly, shaking Harry’s shoulders.

“Told you, idiot,” Niall tells him affectionately.

“Shove off,” Harry says, but he’s smiling when he goes back to work.

— 

He comes into work the Friday morning at seven thirty to find a large bouquet of flowers waiting for him on the back desk.

There’s a small envelope with writing, reading:

_I promise I’ll make it up to you. You are wonderful, Harry. I’ll pick you up Friday at 7pm. Until then, enjoy the flowers._

_Yours,  
Liam Payne._


End file.
